


Homecoming

by flowersatlast



Series: More Than Words [1]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersatlast/pseuds/flowersatlast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago, Gillian Foster accepted a new job and left The Lightman Group in an effort to start fresh. She spent two years working for a university in California and pretending that she didn't miss the man she'd left behind. Now she has returned home and her reunion with Cal is bound to be an interesting one. Although Gillian resents Cal for not asking her to stay, the pair has found themselves with a rekindled friendship and so much to catch up on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is hopefully the first part of a series. I would love to explore the dynamic between Lightman and Foster post-series end.

_“Gillian. Do you love her?”_

It had been over two years since she'd said goodbye, but now Cal was watching Gillian Foster walk toward him through the brightly lit airport terminal and all he could remember was the way she said hello. She was wearing a cream colored blouse, tucked carefully into a simple black skirt that fell just above her knees. You couldn't tell she had been on an airplane for two hours, thumbing nervously through Sky-Mall Magazine and watching the city come into focus beneath her. She looked perfect; better than perfect. Cal wondered if she were a mirage in a busy, airport desert. Perhaps he'd dreamed of her so much that he'd finally lost his bloody mind.

Cal tilted his head. He studied her as she made her way down the long corridor. Cal had gone slack-jawed and his eyes glazed beneath the sharp, florescent light. He wondered how it was possible she could still look this good. Work had run him ragged. It had made him feel older and more tired than all the years they'd worked together combined, but Gillian looked flawless. It hardly seemed fair. 

“Are you okay?” Gillian asked as she reached him, dragging her luggage behind her. A frown had formed against her lips, twisting at the corners of her mouth and dragging down the center of her brow. She was already worried about him.

Cal startled. She shook him from his stupor. He rocked back on his heels once before reaching out a hand and lurching for the handle of her bag, feeling like a cad for not thinking to do so sooner.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving his free hand. “I'm great, love. How are _you_?”

This felt trite and strange and unfamiliar in the worst of ways. They had talked on the phone a few times after she'd first left, but they'd lost touch over the years. There were occasional emails, a couple of postcards and a few phone calls on the holidays, but it wasn't the same. He missed the way she'd look in on him at the office, leaning her hip against the doorway like she belonged there. He missed watching her eat chocolate pudding at ten in the morning. He even missed the way she chided him when he took things to far, always pulling him back from the edge. He wondered if she knew how many times she had saved him. He wondered if Gillian was keeping count.

“I'm tired,” Gillian admitted, letting Cal take her bag. She followed him through the bustling corridor of the airport and out to his car, parked just out front. Cal slipped her luggage into the trunk and Gillian began to believe he was never going to hug her. Instead, he seemed to hover just beyond reach and she missed his arms so much that her bones ached.

“Cal,” she said slowly as he closed the trunk. He froze. She said his name like it mattered-- like it meant something, even after all these years. He looked to her with raised brows, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He hadn't changed a bit. Gillian laughed, shaking her head and stepping in to fill the space between them. A slender arm snaked abruptly against his shoulders. Cal's arms navigated around her waist and Gillian finally felt like she could breathe again. She exhaled against his neck and he inhaled the soft scent of her shampoo. 

"I've missed you," she admitted quietly, as though it were a secret. 

Cal smiled and gave her an easy squeeze. He'd missed everything about her. 

“Welcome home, love,” he said, pressing a quick kiss against her cheek before letting her go. "Welcome home."


	2. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Cal struggles to remember what their friendship used to be like, while Gillian tries to reconcile her feelings upon returning home.

From the window in her office, Gillian stood watching a young woman walking her dog. Occasionally, the golden retriever would slow and sniff at the ankles of passersby or the try to dart off after a slow moving food truck. The woman would tug instinctively at the canine's leash, yanking him back away from the sidewalks edge while cursing the cold, winter wind that nipped at her cheeks and tugged her red, woolen scarf across her face. Gillian took careful sips of her over-sweetened coffee. She leaned her shoulder against the window frame. She let the world drift by without her, as though everything that existed, or could ever exist, lived just beyond that frame of glass. As the woman with the dog disappeared down a narrow side-street and the world beyond Gillian's office window went quiet again, Cal stepped into the room. He cleared his throat to announce himself and Gillian turned, a bit too quickly, and straightened her shoulders. 

“You alright, love?” he asked from the doorway. He was holding a small, paper sack in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other. He stood with his weight cocked against one hip. Worry furrowed his brow as he stepped over the threshold and into her space. 

“I feel like you're asking me that all the time,” Gillian answered with a laugh, moving away from the window. 

She felt like a stranger here now and unease settled constantly against her bones. She wondered if she was haunting hallways she never should have returned to. Gillian had secretly hoped she'd come back to find everything the same, that she could pick up right where they left off, but she knew that was ridiculous. She had no reason to expect Cal's world to stand still without her. They had jobs to do and, shockingly, lives beyond one another and this office. 

“Yeah?” Cal mused. He sat the small, white paper sack down and took a seat across from her, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk. “Maybe that's because you don't quite seem yourself. Something troubling you, Gil?” 

He waited for Gillian to reach for the paper sack and she slowly took the bait, leaning across the desk to pick it up. She opened the bag and a grin blossomed against her lips like sudden, summer sunshine bursting through clouds.

“You brought a donut?” she asked skeptically, ignoring his questions. Gillian pulled a maple frosted cake donut from the bag and held it between them, as if to offer him a bite. 

Cal shook his head and waved one hand at her. Gillian sat down in her chair across from him and took a bite, brushing the corner of her mouth with her fingertips. She pressed one hand against the center of her chest and nodded in satisfaction. 

“Its been _forever_ since I've had a donut,” she said. 

Cal folded his arms across his chest and watched her, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “You? I don't believe that for a second,” Cal said teasingly. Gillian's ability to consume sweets was one of her most endearing, if not confusing, qualities. “Did California not have donuts?” 

Gillian rolled her eyes at him and took another bite. “Are you sure you don't want some?” she asked before setting the snack down against the paper bag and licking the end of one of her fingers. She brushed her hands against her skirt and crossed her legs beneath the desk. Cal shifted and ran a hand over his own mouth and against the scruff of his jaw. His canted his head to one side to watch her, stealing a few fragile seconds to remember what they had been like before she'd left; before both their worlds had changed into strange and unrecognizable things. 

“Not this time, love,” he said finally, pushing back up from his chair. 

Cal couldn't sit still around her. It felt as though he were always moving, weaving in and out of propriety and toeing that invisible line. He couldn't remember what it was like to be around her, to be near her, to _touch_ her without wondering what their lives might have been like if she'd stayed. Some part of Gillian had hoped he would ask her to and Cal knew it. Perhaps that was the greatest sin of all. The night before she left for California, Cal considered it. He considered what their life could be like if he told her the truth for once. But the truth was a dangerous game and they'd spent a good part of their time together stepping around it. 

He wasn't ready to break the rules. 

“Next time then,” Gillian said casually, finishing off the last of the donut. 

She watched Cal as he investigated her office. He studied the photographs on the bookshelf and picked up a snow-globe of Los Angeles, giving it a good shake and letting the dome fill with snow. Cal sat it back down and picked up a photograph of him and Emily in a small, wooden frame. He smiled to himself and tapped a finger against the glass. 

“This was a good one,” he said. His eyes remained fixed to the image of his daughter, before she went away to college and left him there alone. _Why was everyone always leaving him?_ “This was that day at the park,” he added, brushing off the sting of abandonment. He was too old to be this torn up over all his perceived losses. Gillian had never been his to lose. 

“We made hamburgers,” Gillian added as she stood, circling around her desk to join Cal at the bookcase. “It was the first warm day in months.” 

Gillian stood with Cal and they were both pulled back into another time; one that still made sense. Gillian wasn't certain if leaving had been the right thing to do and she still wasn't sure. She'd hoped, perhaps childishly, that Cal would ask her to say. Gillian wanted him to tell her not to take the stupid job in California. She needed him to be selfish. She wanted Cal to put his heart on the line, if only for a few, honest seconds. She needed him to say something. _Anything._ She would have stayed. 

She would have stayed if he'd asked her to. 

Cal sat the photograph back on the shelf and Gillian took a step away from the bookcase. They stumbled away from the memory of a bright, Saturday afternoon and back into real life together. Gillian felt as though she were only still treading water, unable to catch her breath. 

_She would have stayed._

“Let's have dinner tonight,” Cal said suddenly, turning from the bookshelf. He buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Better yet,” he said. “Let's have dinner at my place. We'll have whatever you'd like.” He gestured to her with both hands, palms open. This was the closest thing he could find to an apology and it would have to be enough. 

Gillian smiled quickly. “That sounds great.” 

“Great!” Cal said with far too much enthusiasm. “Great. Seven then? I'll see you then.” 

Cal leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss against Gillian's cheek, one hand brushing against the smallest part of her waist. She leaned into the kiss and gave his shoulder a squeeze before he could step back and escape her. They knew this dance well and they moved in and out of each others space like the best of performers. 

She was surprised how well they still knew the steps.


	3. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gillian joins Cal for dinner and their friendship begins to feel more comfortable and familiar, albeit a more than a little frustrating. The next chapter in this series is going to be up the ante with a little more drama and a lot more danger as Gillian attempts to navigate her way through a risky case on her own.

Gillian arrived for dinner with a bottle of red wine. Cal greeted her cheerfully and gestured for her to enter the once familiar home. It had been two years since she'd sat on that old sofa in his living room. Two years since she'd joined him and Emily at the kitchen table for pizza. Two years since she'd stepped through that doorway and felt her heart tumble and twist toward her stomach. She was shocked that he could still do this to her; still unravel her just by glancing her direction, eyes moving quickly over her body as if it already belonged to him. 

“I thought we might need this,” she said brightly, offering him the bottle of wine as she stepped inside. 

Gillian removed her coat, hung it up and smoothed her dress. She followed Cal into the kitchen where he had nearly finished cooking. The smell of homemade pasta sauce still simmering in the skillet made Gillian's stomach growl as Cal opened the bottle of wine and tossed the cork into the trash bin. 

“This looks delicious,” she remarked, leaning over the pan. 

“Yeah?” Cal asked, pouring them each a glass of wine. “I can't say I've cooked a proper meal since Emily left.” 

“Emily went to college six months ago, Cal.” 

“Alright, love. No need to rub _that_ in,” he said with a laugh, offering her one of the glasses. 

Gillian took a sip and leaned one hip into the counter. Cal stepped over into her space, tossing in a dash of dried basil and giving the sauce a stir. Gillian had always liked watching him cook, though he no longer wore the ridiculous apron he'd donned while cooking for his daughter. She wondered what other little things he no longer did. She wondered how often Emily called him or if she came to visit as much as she had once promised that she would. 

Gillian wondered if Cal was lonely. 

“How is Emily?” she asked. 

Cal tossed a bit more garlic into the skillet and brushed his hands against his jeans. “Doing great,” he said. “She really loves it, you know? She's really 'in her element'. She's coming home for Christmas break soon.” Cal turned off the stove-top and turned to look at Gillian. “She'd love to see you.”

Gillian grinned and took a sip of her wine. “I would love to see her, too” Gillian said, studying the man before her over the rim of her wine glass. 

Cal met her gaze and held it a bit too long. He wished he could read her mind, but he settled instead for reading her face. 

“Hungry?” Cal lifted the skillet and settled it on the kitchen table above a woven pot-holder. He moved the pot of pasta to the table as well and took his wine glass. Gillian sat next from him and crossed her legs, taking another sip of wine before savoring a bite of pasta. It was scrumptious and she'd expected nothing else from Cal Lightman. Even if he was rather out of practice.

“I'm glad you're cooking skills haven't slipped too much in the past six months,” she said teasingly.

Cal gently kicked her foot beneath the table and pointed his fork at her. “You've gotten a bit cockier since I last saw you.” 

Gillian smiled and gave her shoulders a shrug. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe you've just forgotten.” 

By the time dinner had ended, Gillian had finished her second glass of wine. It had colored her cheeks pink and made her words soft and slow. She refused to let Cal clean up the meal on his own and washed dishes at the sink while he put away the food. Afterward, they navigated their way to the living room and Gillian sat across from Cal on the sofa, her now bare feet curled up beneath her. She shivered and Cal pulled an afghan from the back of the couch and tossed it lazily over her legs, tugging it to cover her. His hand lingered against her knee and she didn't pull away from the warmth of his palm above the cotton knit.

The time apart had done something wicked. 

Cal could no longer look at her without wondering how her mouth would taste-- like sweet, red wine or the bright burst of tomato. He couldn't sit this close to her without considering how easily her body could twist into the space between his and the sofa or how perfect her skin would feel against the rough of his palms, the curves of her body so easily revealed beneath the pale slip of silk at her throat. Even his teeth ached for her and the dappled marrow of his bones. Sitting this close to her, Cal felt a storm brewing in his gut. Lightning shattered through his veins. 

Had she always been this madly electric? 

“You're staring at me,” she said, laughter coloring her voice. She had caught him in thoughts he would never dare to share. 

“Yeah,” he answered curtly. “I am.” He was calling her bluff, baiting her with the truth. 

“Well, stop it,” she laughed openly, tilting her head. Her hair fell against her cheekbones as she leaned her shoulder into the sofa. She lifted one hand to brush it from her face and looked away from him. 

The truth had always felt like too much. 

Much to her dissatisfaction, Cal pulled his hand from her knee. The space between them widened again and she felt her heart tumble toward the abyss. Cal leaned to rest both arms against the back of the sofa and he propped his feet up on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. 

“Are you lonely?” Gillian asked finally, breaking the silence that had twisted between them. There she was always worrying about him, always wondering if he was okay.

“Do I look lonely, love?” He nodded toward her. “You're here, yeah?” 

“You know what I mean.” Gillian rolled her eyes. 

“I do. I do know what you mean, love," he admitted. "And yeah, I suppose sometimes I am. Its a big house, you know? Especially for one person.” 

Gillian nodded slowly and watched the way Cal's eyes shifted over to catch hers. She could blame so much on the wine they'd had with dinner, but two glasses was hardly enough to make her more than tipsy. Still, she craved him in a way that made her drunk. He intoxicated her; made her girlish and cheerful and anxious for the moment when he'd touch her again. She couldn't wait for him to gather the courage and, in a moment of delicate bravery, Gillian scooted forward on the sofa and curled herself against the crook of his body. She leaned her head against his chest and Cal's arm slipped from the back of the couch to curl against her shoulders. He pulled her close. Gillian's hand fell against his thigh. She could hear his heart beating beneath ribcage like thunder. Carefully, Cal pulled the afghan across both their laps and tilted his head to kiss the top of hers. 

This is what coming home was supposed to feel like.


End file.
